


Snowball's Chance

by annie_reckson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Established Relationship, F/F, Trust Issues, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_reckson/pseuds/annie_reckson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing that infuriates her the most though, is that Lydia knows Allison has anxiety every time they have to visit Beacon Hills. She knows that them not being prepared to leave in the morning for their flight is giving Allison even more anxiety. And Lydia knows that Allison hates even coming to these sort of pretentious events, so much more when Lydia abandons her for lengthy amounts of time while she speaks to potential donors.</p><p>Speaking of, Allison enters the Modern part of the gallery and finally spots her wife speaking with a group of douchey-looking men in immaculately-tailored tuxedos. And Lydia is laughing, lipsticked-mouth wide and open, while her hand is gripping one of the men’s biceps. At that moment, Allison is glad she left her wine glass behind, because her palm would be covered in glass shards</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowball's Chance

**Author's Note:**

> For the Bitetime Fest, (very loosely) based off of the Lifetime movie, [A Chance of Snow](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0181359/)

At this point in the evening, Allison is genuinely concerned that her wine glass is going to shatter in her grip. She’s spent the last half hour huddled in a corner near some 16th-century portrait of a patriarch she doesn’t care about and hoping no one else tries to engage her in conversation. Annoyed, she checks her watch and grits her teeth when she sees how late it is. Her and Lydia are taking an eight AM flight tomorrow back to Beacon Hills and it’s already past midnight. Plus, she knows that Lydia is nowhere near through with her packing.

If they don’t leave soon, it’s going to be after two in the morning before Allison finally gets to sleep, meaning she’ll get about four hours before they have to be awake and headed for the airport. She already dreads spending time with her family in the first place, she’s especially not looking forward to exhaustion from lack of sleep and a long flight exacerbating things.

Tired of waiting for the redhead to come find her like she said she would an hour ago, Allison drains the last of the truly exquisite merlot - the _only_ good thing about events like these - and sets it on the nearest table before weaving her way back through the various galleries in the museum. She’s cursing her wife under her breath as she passes group after group of the wealthy upper-class, dressed in the sort of cocktail attire that they save for these ridiculous holiday fundraisers. As usual, Lydia had insisted that Allison wear something short, tight, and festively-colored. Allison was just happy that a few years ago she’d managed to put her foot down when it came to the color; instead of either blindingly bright red or classic black, she’d convinced Lydia that she’d be much better complemented in nice, warm, dark green. Still festive, but not garish.

The thing that infuriates her the most though, is that Lydia knows Allison has anxiety every time they have to visit Beacon Hills. She knows that them not being prepared to leave in the morning for their flight is giving Allison even more anxiety. And Lydia knows that Allison hates even coming to these sort of pretentious events, so much more when Lydia abandons her for lengthy amounts of time while she speaks to potential donors.

Speaking of, Allison enters the Modern part of the gallery and finally spots her wife speaking with a group of douchey-looking men in immaculately-tailored tuxedos. And Lydia is laughing, lipsticked-mouth wide and open, while her hand is gripping one of the men’s biceps. At that moment, Allison is glad she left her wine glass behind, because her palm would be covered in glass shards.

She steps over quickly, teeth gritted, lips wide in an attempt at a smile, “Lydia! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Lydia, apparently, refuses to notice how uncomfortable her partner is, “Ally! Is it that late already? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, we should probably head out so-”

“This is Marcus, his father owns the architecture company building that new skyscraper on the West End,” She points out each assface in turn, “Josh and James started their own consulting firm right out of grad school, and,” She gestures towards the man on her right that she _still has her hand on_ , “You remember Jackson, of course.”

Allison tries, and probably fails, to hide her snarl with a smile, “How could I forget?”

Jackson, as always, maintains his smarmy expression, “It’s been so great catching up with Lydia,” He has the audacity to tilt his head and give Lydia an adoring look, “And she’s just as charming and gorgeous as I remember.”

Lydia giggles and slaps his arm, “ _Jackson_! Stop it!”

Suddenly, Allison’s doing quick calculations in her head, trying to figure out how much strength it would take to rip a man’s arm off with her bare hands. Her and her father did the math for it once - he had insisted it was only to be used in self-defense, but Allison has always felt like sometimes exceptions should be made. Although, Lydia’s already going to be upset with her because they have to leave, who knows how much angrier she’d be if Allison maimed her ex-boyfriend in front of _polite company_.

“Lydia!” Allison finally manages through her gritted teeth, “We really need to head out, we’ve still got a half hour drive back home and an early flight in the morning.”

“Oh, I hate early flights! Can we just stay a little later and catch another one?”

Allison tries her hardest to maintain a friendly-looking smile on her face, “Sweetheart, you know there’s only one flight tomorrow that goes to Beacon Hills. So we need to leave. Now.”

Lydia pouts, a sure sign that she’s had too much to drink, “Well fine,” She _finally_ removes her arm from Jackson’s side and extends it out to Allison, “Take me away from these handsome gentlemen, then. If you must.”

“As your wife,” Allison practically snarls out, “I feel like I must insist.”

Her gut twists at her own tone and she winces without thinking. Lydia takes her outstretched hand with a sigh and follows her outside, waving and saying her goodbyes to the various fancily-dressed members of the bourgeoisie while they exit. While they’re waiting for their valet, Lydia stumbles a bit in her heels - making it quite obvious that she’s had too much to drink - and takes them off immediately, apparently deciding that standing on the cold November pavement in just her hosiery is a better choice. Allison tips their valet an extra ten dollars for not saying anything, and for calming turning Lydia down when she playfully hits on him as he’s helping her into the car.

The drive home is mostly silent. It’s not a long drive - thirty minutes if she’s really trying - but it always feels longer when Lydia’s staring out the window and refusing to talk. Allison sighs and notices that Lydia’s absently playing with the ring on her finger, a harsh reminder of how shitty the evening had gone.

To be fair, Lydia had always been flirty towards, well, everyone. She’d learned early on that it was an extremely effective way of getting what she wanted from people. Allison should know, she’s been best friends with the impulsive redhead since sophomore year of high school. Those years were a struggle for Allison, who developed a crush almost instantly that stubbornly wouldn’t go away. God, who wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure if Lydia’s obvious preference for boys made the crush easier or harder, and she tried desperately to ignore it as she dated a few people of her own to try and keep Lydia off her mind.

But everything changed the first time Lydia visited Allison at college. It had been a breath of fresh air after a full month of acclimating to new people and a new environment. Somehow they’d ended up at the diviest of dive bars in the city and playing pool against a couple of annoying frat boys. Naturally, they underestimated Lydia’s natural knack for geometry and Allison’s spectacular aim, costing them three rounds of shots.

Towards the end of the night, the blonder frat boy tried to get Lydia to go home with him. When she shirked and refused, he gave her a toothy smile and said something along the lines of, “ _C’mon baby, I bet I can do lots of things to you to make you smile._ ”  Lydia matched his grin and replied, “ _The only thing you can do that would make me smile is to set yourself on fire and let me watch.”_

That was when things got hairy. Because the dude didn’t take too kindly to being shot down and made a grab for Lydia’s arm, only to grunt in surprise when Allison had her hand on him first. On reflex, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it backwards until he was on the ground and howling for mercy. His friend, wisely, decided to keep his distance from the two girls and backed away slowly. When Allison finally released her hold on the douchebag’s wrist, Lydia kicked him in the stomach for good measure and the two of them left as quickly as possible to avoid possible retaliation.

Luckily, they were able to make it back to Allison’s dorm without incident, although Allison wasn’t able to fully breathe until she clicked the lock to her door. Perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through her from the whole situation, but her whole skin tingled when Lydia locked eyes with her. Sure, she’d seen that look on Lydia’s face before, but it had never been directed at her before. Nearly predatory in its fierceness; Allison could only stare back helplessly as Lydia closed the gap between them.

After that first, half-intoxicated, messy makeout session, things only grew from there. They ended up spending the entire next day in Allison’s tiny twin-size bed together, learning the different parts of each other’s body; tasting each other’s skin. For Allison, it was like a fantasy come reality, but she was never sure what caused Lydia to reciprocate her feelings. Whenever Allison asked, Lydia would just giggle and nuzzle into her neck. Up until recently, that always seemed like enough.

Even so, Allison has never doubted her partner’s affection. Not until tonight at least. Something about the way Lydia flirted at the gala gnaws away at her during their drive home. Part of it - a lot of it, actually - has to do with how casually affectionate Lydia is around Jackson. Sure, she was never particularly comfortable with Lydia’s flirty manner, but the fact that she’d been hanging all over her ex-boyfriend opens up a new wound in Allison’s chest.

Lydia ruffles a hand through her hair as they leave the highway, “I don’t know why you had to overreact like that in there, do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?”

“Embarrassing?” Allison grips the wheel, “You’re trying to say that I embarrassed you?”

“Yes!” Lydia sits up straight for the first time during their drive home, “How am I supposed to be taken seriously when it looks I have an unsupportive partner?”

Allison sets her jaw, “How are people supposed to take your relationship seriously when you’re batting your eyelashes at every eligible bachelor there?”

“Excuse me?”

“Lydia,” Allison flicks her eyes between her wife and the neighborhood street, “You have no idea the looks I get from the other patrons at the event. Especially from the men you flirt ridiculously with. They always have smarmy looks on their faces, like they think they’re getting away with something. They think, ‘Poor silly lesbian, if she had any idea how close I am to fooling around with her little girlfriend.’”

“ _Allison_! It’s part of my _job_ to be friendly!”

“It’s disrespectful, Lydia! To our relationship and to me. You know I hate going to these events because you always leave me on my own and I always find you surrounded by men too busy staring at your cleavage to focus on anything coming out of your mouth.”

Lydia sticks out her bottom lip, “I don’t know why you have to act like this. It doesn’t matter what any of those pretty rich boys think, I only do what has to be done to keep money coming into my firm. My pleasantries remain on the surface level, you know that.”

“What about Jackson?” Allison sneers out.

Lydia rolls her eyes, “What about him?”

“Yeah, do you remember caressing his bicep while he cooed in your ear?”

Lydia blinks back tears, “Why are you being so hateful right now?”

Allison takes a deep breath as she pulls into their driveway, “Because I am sick and tired of people looking at me like I’m the biggest idiot at these stupid galas. You smile and giggle and toss your hair for every person there but your actual wife. You expect me to just show up, look pretty, and be silent while you preen from all the attention and it’s unfair, Lydia. It’s completely unfair.”

In the back of her mind, she knows that Lydia isn’t completely sober enough for this conversation. Although, to be fair, this is a conversation that should have been dealt with awhile ago, Allison was just never pissed off enough to broach the subject. And now she can’t seem to stop the words from coming out, despite the adverse effects.  She waits for a response with her fists balled up in her lap.

What she gets though, is only an annoyed huff and Lydia brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before getting out of the car. Rolling her eyes, Allison follows suit, if only to unlock the front door. Once they’re inside, Lydia starts up the staircase to their bedroom but freezes when she realizes that Allison is behind her.

“You should probably sleep on the couch tonight,” Lydian turns her head slightly to the side, “I can finish up my own packing.”

“Lydia, don’t be ridiculous, let me hel-”

“ _Good night, Allison_.”

Allison shudders as Lydia stomps the rest of the way up the stairs and slams their bedroom door shut. With a resigned sigh, she heads up to their linen closet and pulls a spare pillow and blanket out to put on the couch. From down the hallway, she can faintly hear quiet sobs coming from their bedroom and wonders when this became their life.

If she tried to go in there now, it would only reignite their argument and that isn’t fair to Lydia right now. The last thing she wants to do is talk about it on the way to the airport, though, which means all of this will have to sit on the backburner while they’re in Beacon Hills. Allison sighs at the idea that this trip will be even worse than usual.

The universe decides to throw her one bone that evening in the form of Lydia leaving the clean laundry downstairs earlier that day. A sweet groan escapes Allison’s lips as she finally unzips the uncomfortable formalwear and changes into an old t-shirt and sweatpants. She passes by the kitchen and finds herself unable to resist grabbing a glass tumbler and bottle of whiskey. Something about the drive home leaves her feeling not at all tired.

Instead, she heads for their spacious back deck, overlooking the gorgeous wooded area behind their house, grabbing her phone on the way. The darkness at this hour made it difficult to see the trees themselves, but the stars were shining brightly. Allison tries not to let it bother her that they’ve been living in the state of New York for six years now and she still hasn’t met anyone she’d rather talk to in a time like this than her best friend back in Beacon Hills.

She’s scrolling to his number before she even realizes it, clicking the Call icon without even thinking about it. Tomorrow, she’ll be hating the time zone change but right now it works in her favor. Stiles picks up on the third ring.

“Ally! Hey! It’s....after one in the morning there, shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Allison sighs before replying, “Probably, yeah.”

“Ah. That’s not a tone I like to hear.”

“Yeah. It’s not a tone I like to have,” She settles into one of the deckchairs and pours a small amount of whiskey into her tumbler, “I’m not taking you away from anything, am I?”

“Oh God no. I’m actually glad you called,” He chuckles as she can hear him shuffling through his house, “We’re watching Scott and Kira’s daughter for the week and you called right as Derek was going to try and coerce me into doing the dishes while he took care of bathtime.”

Allison raises an eyebrow, knowing he can’t see it, “So now he’s going to do both?”

“Keep me on the phone long enough, and he’ll have to,” She can hear the smirk in his tone, “I’m hoping I can get away with picking up bedtime-story-duty with Sasha instead.”

“Well, I will do everything I can to make that happen then, I guess,” She laughs despite herself.

Stiles’s tone suddenly switches to a more somber one, “Really though, Ally, tell me what’s up.”

Allison takes a quick sip of the whiskey, hoping it’ll keep her voice steady, “We went to another one of those stupid fundraising events tonight. Lydia was her usual self.”

“Overly flirtatious to everyone?”

“Yep,” She pops the ‘p’, “Jackson was there.”

“Oh,” He sucks in a breath, “How did that go?”

“Not well, actually. She abandoned me, as usual, and when I found her, she had her arms wrapped around him.”

“Did she really? I know Lydia can be a little bit....you know, but it doesn’t seem like her to be that ostentatious. Especially at an event where everyone probably knows her and knows that she’s married. To a woman who knows how to work a crossbow.”

Allison barks out a laugh without meaning to, immediately regretting it and taking another sip of the warming whiskey in her hand. She always forgets how Stiles - possibly the king of hyperbole - refuses to accept the trait in others. In fact, it’s always seemed like he gets a kick out of calling out other people’s bullshit. It’s probably why he’s always the one she calls.

“Whose side are you on anyway, Stilinski?” She bites back, without heat.

“The side of ‘Keeping My Best Friend, Allison Argent, As Happy As Possible.”

Allison sighs and murmurs, “I wish my wife was also on that side.”

“She is, Ally,” He offers, without hesitation, “I know we don’t see you guys that much these days - and I don’t say that to try and make you feel bad, Derek and I are definitely both overdue for a trip out there - but I feel like we talk pretty frequently. You and I communicate constantly, obviously, but Lydia and I text back and forth, too. Not to mention the intense Words With Friends games that her and Derek play.”

Allison can’t help but chuckle when she remembers the smarmy look Lydia gets on her face when she manages a place a particularly high-scoring word.

Stiles continues, “And geez, do you even look at her Instagram? Probably 70% of the pictures she posts are of you, either drinking coffee or hiking or all dressed up or eating breakfast or...you get the picture. It’s gross, Allison.”

“You say that as if you aren’t as bad.”

“Oh no, I totally understand how grossly in love I am with that walking piece of manflesh. At this point I can only embrace it,” He pauses for a second, “But that’s not the point. What I’m trying to say here is that, Lydia really does love you. Like, a lot.”

She refills her glass, “I wish it felt like that. Honestly. If only you could see what it’s like to have all of these...glorified fratboys in suits ogling your partner and...Lydia just goes along with all of the ridiculousness as if she doesn’t realize that there might be anything wrong with that.”

“I don’t know, Ally, it sounds like you guys need to have some sort of serious discussion. When you’re both sober.”

Allison sighs, “Yeah, I know,” She pauses as she takes a sip, “Sometimes I just honestly worry that she’s not happy and she just refuses to tell me.”

“I guess I can understand why you’d feel that way, but don’t let your mind wander until you actually talk to Lydia, okay? Promise me that.”

“Alright,” Allison rolls her eyes, even though she knows Stiles can’t see her, “I promise.”

“And get some rest, for god’s sake. You’re going to be seeing me in what, nine hours or so? I want to see that pretty face nice and well-rested!”

“Okay, okay. You win Stilinski. I’m going inside to get some sleep.”

“Perfect timing, too. I’m getting the scowl-y eyebrows now from you-know-who. Looks like I’m going to be stuck with dishes after all. I’ll see you tomorrow Ally, okay? Love you!”

“Love you too, Stiles. Give Derek my love, too.”

“You know it! Bye, Ally.”

It’s not that she necessarily feels better about the whole situation when she sets her phone on the table, but everything definitely seems less terminal. She’s not exactly sure when she’ll be able to have a real conversation with her wife but she knows that she’s not as worried about it as she was a half hour ago. A lot of that has to be with Stiles, but a significant bit of credit is also due to the whiskey sloshing in her stomach.

She heads inside and stands at the bottom of the stairs for a few moments, contemplating whether or not it’s worth it to climb into bed with Lydia or not. In the end, Allison decides that, even if she’s not as angry as she was when they got home earlier, she’s still not ready to fully forgive Lydia for her behavior. With a lengthy sigh, she plops down on their couch and tries to get comfortable for the few hours she has before they have to be up for their flight.

 

***

 

The slamming of a door upstairs is what bolts Allison out of her slumber and it takes a moment for her to get her bearings. There’s early morning sunlight streaming in the large kitchen windows and one of the muscles in her lower back has already started aching; both easy reminders that she had to sleep on the couch the night before. She’s rubbing the sleep out of her eyes when Lydia comes trumping down the stairs.

“Allison! Didn’t you set an alarm?”

“Hmm?” She ran a hand through her tangled hair, “I thought I did...” Her phone was supposed to be sitting on the coffee table, but is nowhere to be seen.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Luckily one of us had the foresight to or else.”

From her spot on the couch, Allison watches Lydia haughtily walk through their living room and out the front door with her suitcase. She has no idea how she can look so polished and refreshed after the night they had, but she knows she’s jealous, as always. After she finally finds her phone, _underneath_ the table, she checks the time and sees that she’ll barely be able to pull on some clean clothes and tie her hair up in a messy bun before they need to leave for the airport.

Lydia noisily came back inside, “Allison! Honestly! You’re the one who talked on and on about us getting home early so we could get a decent night’s rest for this trip. Unless you start getting ready, we’re going to miss this trip.”

Something in her tone sets Allison off, “Seriously? You’re going to jump right into lecturing me after your behavior last night?”

There was a split second where everything in the house seemed to freeze as Lydia paused in the middle of the living room. She slowly turned her head towards Allison, mouth open in bitter anger. Without giving her time to reply, Allison threw the blanket off herself and jogged up the stairs to quickly change and grab her own things. Unsurprisingly, it only took Lydia a moment to shake off her shock and follow her to their bedroom.

“Are you really going to start this again?” She shrieked out through nearly-gritted teeth.

Allison sighs as she pulls a shirt over her head, “You know what? I wasn’t going to. I was just going to let it go until we got back from Beacon Hills. But you’re acting really haughty right now for someone who was drunkenly all over their ex last night.”

Lydia rolls her eyes so aggressively that her whole head seems to go with the movement, “Really? You’re still upset about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, Lydia?” She steps closer to her, “You never apologized or showed remorse or even acknowledged that you understood why I was upset!”

“You’re upset because you were jealous,” Lydia crossed her arms and stuck her chin out, “And you were jealous because you’re stupid.”

“Wow,” Allison’s face dropped as she tied her hair up to keep it out of her face, “I wanted us to talk this through and everything but I....I think we’re done here, Lydia.”

Lydia’s face went ashen, “....What?”

“Lydia, this,” She gestured between the two of them, “Isn’t working. We aren’t working. I think last night was a grand indication of that,” Allison could feel the burn of tears already starting in the corners of her eyes.

“Why would you say that,” Lydia’s voice was starting to break, “Is this what you really want?”

“Of course not,” Allison shakes her head then looks down, “But doesn’t this seem like where we’re headed?”

Lydia balls her hands into tiny fists, “I honestly can’t believe you’d say that, much less think it” Her bottom lip is quivering and Allison can see her visibly shaking.

“Look, Lyds, why don’t we wait until after we get back from this? We...let’s not do this now.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lydia narrows her eyes, “You just spring that on me, then press pause, and think that’s okay? So we’re supposed to just go back to Beacon Hills, play the happy couple for the weekend, then come back here and start drawing up divorce papers?”

“No! I just-” Allison sits down on the bed, “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”

“You’ve been _wanting_ to do this?” Lydia’s words were shrill.

“No, god, I mean. I wanted us to talk about...everything. Obviously. Just not like this.”

Lydia huffs and digs her nails into her elbows, “Well then, we should probably go before we miss our flight. I’d hate to miss out on such a joyous occasion.”

With a loud huff, Lydia leaves the room and loudly descends the stairs, making sure to slam the front door. Allison rubs her eyes and tries to choke back some of her emotions. This is not at all how she wanted all of that to go.

Lydia’s right though, they will be late for their flight if they don’t leave soon. And as much as Allison isn’t exactly eager to spend the next two hours on a plane sitting next to Lydia, she knows that she won’t hear the end of it from her family if she’s not in Beacon Hills by this afternoon. It takes most of her effort, but she manages to finish getting dressed and drag her suitcase down to their car.

The drive there is mostly silent, save for the clacking of Lydia’s nails on her phone. There’s not much traffic this early in the morning and Allison easily loses herself in the forced banter on one of the radio stations. She glances over at the passenger seat a few times, but the stony look remains on Lydia’s face. At this rate, this is going to be the longest week of her life.

 

***

 

“What do you _mean_ our flight’s delayed?” Lydia is practically leaning over the counter at their gate.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” The woman raises an eyebrow at her, “As I told both of you, there’s a snowstorm over Chicago and for the time being we’ve suspended all westbound flights. We’ll let you know when the airways are clear, until then all you can do is sit tight.”

“But how long will we be stuck here?”

The woman sighs, “As long as it takes, ma’am. Unfortunately we’re unable to control the weather.”

From her seat, Allison can see Lydia narrow her eyes, “Well you don’t need to get sassy about it.”

So far, this is turning out to be even worse than Allison could have imagined. Thanks to a huge snowstorm, they’re stuck in this airport for the foreseeable future with a couple hundred other disgruntled would-be passengers. All of this has Lydia in an even worse mood than before.

When Lydia storms away from the counter, she heads in the opposite direction of Allison. It annoys her for a moment, but then she rolls her eyes and realizes that part of her expected that; there’s no reason Lydia would be happy about being stuck there with her. Not after the morning they had. So Allison busies herself by working on her tablet, she’s got spring camps to start planning, not to mention wildlife treks with various elementary schools.

After around ten minutes, Lydia plops down next to her and holds out a paper cup, “Here, brought you some coffee.”

Allison hesitates before grabbing it, “Oh. Thanks, hon.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, “Don’t mention it. Oh and, don’t worry, I didn’t shamelessly coo at the barista or anything.”

“Lydia, please don’t-”

“No,” She holds up a hand, “Just drink the coffee.”

A few beats pass as Lydia’s leg agitates constantly, a nervous tic that anxiety seems to always bring out. As a reflex, Allison reaches out with her free hand to rest on Lydia’s knee, both stilling Lydia’s leg and earning her a hurt glare in response. Dejected, she takes her hand back.

Lydia takes a sip of her own coffee, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that you’re stuck here with me.”

“I’m not- Lydia, I don’t mind being stuck here. And I’d prefer it with you.”

“Would you?”

“Would _you_?” Allison lifts an eyebrow, “Look, I don’t want to start an argument again, especially not here, but I’m not the charming coquette in this relationship.”

Lydia whips her head around to stare Allison directly in the eye, “How do you react when people hit on you, Allison?”

She thinks for a moment, then shrugs, “It doesn’t really ever happen.”

“Are you serious? Are you actually serious? Did you know that the employees at our neighborhood co-op aren’t supposed to carry groceries to customer’s cars anymore, yet Melanie still does it for you, for some reason.”

“She’s just really nice-

“According to - Bobby? Andy? one of those other park rangers - three school teachers have tried to get your number this year alone.”

“...They all said they wanted additional information on the other nature hikes we offer...”

“And I’m fairly certain our mail-lady is in love with you. Not only because she’s always sweet to you and hateful to me, but I’m also fairly certain she put anthrax in an envelope once and tried to get me to take it.”

Allison laughs, for what feels like the first time in days, “Lydia! That’s ridiculous! Prudence is just a nice lady!”

“To you.”

“Whatever you say, but-”

“My point is, whether or not you notice, you get hit on a lot. Quite a lot, actually. I don’t ever say anything about it because I know you’d never do anything about it. Because you love me.”

Allison smiles, “I do.”

“I know,” Lydia returns her smile, “And, for the record, there are parts of my job that I don’t particularly like, but they’re unfortunately necessary. Like it or not, there are a lot of privileged, annoying rich boys that need to believe that I like them and that my firm likes them.”

“I just-”

Lydia places a hand on her arm, “I know, okay? Maybe you’re right, maybe I do need to tone it down,” She winces, “Yeah, you’re probably right, actually. Do you know why I was clinging so hard to Jackson last night?”

Allison sighs, her mood plummeting, “No, why?”

“Because one of those trust-fund brats was overstepping his boundaries in a harsh way and I couldn’t get away to find you. Jackson just happened to be close by and someone I trusted. Allison you know that...you know I would never...?”

“I...” Her mouth hangs open as she struggles to find the words, “I need that assurance though. From the outside looking in, it doesn’t always look that great. Plus, you don’t have to see the smarmy looks those...fuckboys...always give me, like they know something I don’t.”

Lydia nods, her lips pressed together, “Allison, I’ve never lied to you, okay? Not once. So believe me when I tell you this: you have absolutely nothing to worry about in that regard. Just let me know next time something like that happens and I’ll put them in their place right away,” She licks her lips, “I’m your wife, okay? And you’re mine. No dickhead in an overpriced suit is ever going to change that.”

Allison smiles and runs a hand across her mouth, “Good, I- that’s good to hear you say that. I’m sorry for uh- being so aggressive about it last night.”

“I’m sorry for being so drunk,” Lydia huffs out a laugh and leans her head on Allison’s shoulder, “Sometimes events like that just give me so much anxiety and I don’t deal with it well.”

Allison reaches around to run a hand down Lydia’s shoulder, “It’s alright, maybe I’ll stick with you from now on, okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Lydia turns her head to press a small kiss on the underside of Allison’s jaw.

They sit like that for awhile, just the two of them pressed together amidst the background noises of the airport. It’s calming, in a way, being able to just focus on their breathing and the smell of strawberry conditioner (the same kind Lydia had been using as long as Allison had known her). She’s almost embarrassed to admit to herself how long it had been since they’ve been this close, just enjoying the other’s company.

Lydia breaks their moment first, sighing and sitting back up, “I think I’m going to run to the restroom and umm...” She wipes underneath both eyes, “Freshen up a bit.”

Allison nods, “Okay.”

They exchange small smiles before Lydia gets up to leave, squeezing Allison’s hand before she walks away. After she’s out of sight, Allison finds that she feels the loss more acutely than before. Last night, or even a week ago, she would have relished having time to herself, but now she can feel the switch in her subconscious. There is a longing there now, something she hasn’t felt for years but now burned in her chest.

Abruptly, she jumps up, grabs their bags - thankfully the larger ones had been checked - and walks in the direction of the bathroom. She barrels through the door of the closest one, hoping its the one Lydia’s decided to enter. Thankfully, the first thing she sees is her gorgeous redhead, staring at the mirror and wiping down her face with a towelette. She drops the bags near the sink, startling Lydia out of her concentration.

Lydia looks surprised to see her, “Allison? Is everything okay? Did you hear anything about our flight?”

All she can do is smile as she takes in Lydia’s freshly-washed, bare face. Just as gorgeous as her freshly-applied, made-up face, but somehow more special because Allison is probably the only person that really gets to see the former. From what she can see, the bathroom is empty save for the two of them. Overwhelmed, she steps over quickly, cups Lydia’s face in her hands, and presses their lips together, fiercely. 

“Sorry,” She gulps out when she pulls back, “I just really missed you.”

“No, um,” Lydia’s eyes are wide and wet, “No need to apologize, that was-”

She cuts herself off by returning Allison’s gesture, smashing their mouths together and moaning sweetly. Allison traces her tongue around the plumpness of Lydia's lips, relearning all the curves therein. Without preamble, Lydia starts tugging her into one of the stalls, locking the door with one hand and running her hand up Allison’s back with the other. Allison traces her fingers over Lydia’s waist, tucking them under her shirt to feel the cool skin.

Allison pulls back and gasps, “Are we really doing this here?”

Lydia smiles against her lips, “Not much else to do is there? We could sit out there and answer emails while waiting for a snowstorm in another state to clear up, or,” She gets to her knees and rucks Allison’s shirt up, wetting her skin with sloppy kisses, “I could go down on you in an airport bathroom, because we are nothing if not classy women,” She nips the soft skin and seems to relish the gasp that escapes Allison’s mouth, “Besides,” Lydia raises an eyebrow, “You started it.”

Allison plasters one hand to the side of the stall for balance, “Fuck. Yes, I am totally down with this idea. You, Lydia Martin, are a very intelligent woman.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s one of the reasons you married me,” Lydia smirks out while undoing Allison’s jeans and pulling them down around her thighs.

The slick metal of the stall doesn’t provide nearly enough friction for Allison to really lean against, but she continues leaning her weight against it anyway, using her other hand to thread her fingers through Lydia’s long, thick hair. She bites down on her lip as Lydia leaves a trail with her tongue down her abdomen and into the coarse hair just below the elastic band of her underwear.

Lydia looks up at her briefly, pupils blown and dark, before tugging her underwear down as well, exposing her to the chilly air in the airport. She shivers minutely, and Lydia responds by gripping her thighs with both hands and pushing them apart so she can dip her face in between. Allison’s fingers tighten in Lydia’s strands as the redhead licks a flat stripe all along her lips until she reaches the budding clit.

With the sort of control that Allison knows she could never have, Lydia uses just the tip of her tongue to flick against her clit, wrenching drawn-out moans from Allison’s lips. She then presses her lips around the bulb, sucking around it while continuing to rub against it with her tongue. Allison slams her hand against the back of the stall as more wracking sobs climb up from her belly. Lydia presses her nose against the soft flesh where Allison’s thighs meet her groin and pulls back to catch her breath.

“You taste so amazing, did you know that?”

Allison isn’t sure how she’s forming words right now, “Uh....I mean...I have an idea...?”

Lydia nips along her thigh, “God, I love you so much, Allison.”

“I love you, too,” Allison manages to get out through puffing breaths.

She gets little more than a chuckle in response before Lydia is diving back in, using her fingers as well this time. Allison’s jaw drops as she feels the pressure of Lydia’s fingers rubbing against her wet lips. Her legs very nearly crumple when Lydia thrusts them inside, matching the pace of her still brushing rhythmically against her.

When she comes, it’s with a grunt that she swears starts in her toes and moves with a punch through her body until it feels like theirs pins and needles all over her skin. Lydia moves her mouth to catch her wetness, and sucks against her skin until Allison has to push her off. She pulls her jeans back up in a rush and sinks down in the stall opposite Lydia.

“Oh my God,” Is all she has the effort to blurt out.

“I’m pretty awesome, I know,” Lydia licks her lips and around her mouth like she’s to catch as much of Allison’s taste as possible.

Allison clumsily reaches out for her hand, “Yeah...you really are.”

 

***

 

37 1/2 hours later - a significant portion of which was spent in various bathrooms around the airport and at least one supply closet - they finally land in Beacon Hills. There’s a small contingent there to greet them by Baggage Claim; Allison’s parents are there, of course, despite the somewhat-late hour,  and Lydia’s mom has a huge smile on her face when she sees them.

Allison’s attention though, is drawn immediately to Stiles and Derek who, despite the fact that Allison knows they have plans to meet up with them tomorrow, still decided to meet them here. She knows she’ll probably get flack for it later from her mom, but she runs up and hugs them first, maybe a bit too tightly.

“Hey bud,” Stiles lets out when she finally lets him go, “Glad to see you finally made it!”

“Yeah,” Allison grins, “I never thought I’d actually be happy to see Beacon Hills.”

Stiles gapes, “Oh my god, are you trying to say that you’re not always happy to see me?”

Derek gently elbows him in the ribs, “What he’s trying to say is that we’re happy you’re here, too,” He gives her a thoughtful look, “By the way, is everything...okay? Sorry, Stiles kinda-”

“It’s fine,” Allison playfully rolls her eyes, “I expected him, too. But um, we’re okay, we’re...” She glances back at Lydia, whose mom is fretting over how messy Lydia’s hair is, “We’re actually really, really good. Pretty awesome, actually.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I ended up posting this a day late because I'm pretty much trash who can't stay focused. Hopefully it's worth the extra wait?


End file.
